


You and I

by NeoVenus22



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: F/M, Implied Incest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gretel stared at the ceiling and waited for the guilt, but it did not come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I

**Author's Note:**

> For obsessivemuch.

Gretel stared at the ceiling and waited for the guilt, but it did not come. She waited for the feeling, the sense of 'unnaturalness,' as they'd been accused of being just that, but that sense never came, either. Nothing about her or Hansel's life to that point has been 'natural,' so what did it even matter?

Hansel was the only thing that made sense to Gretel, really. He was a constant. He was not the smartest mind, or the handsomest man, nor the best shot (she was the better shot), but he was hers. Hansel was the one that had her back when she ran off into battle. He was the one that calmed the townspeople with a wry smile when she accused them of being narrow-minded idiots who are going to get themselves killed sooner rather than later (they were, but telling them that so bluntly was 'bad for business'). Hansel was the snoring presence of the floor by her bed every evening, the warm arm around her waist every morning.

(Gretel asked him once why he didn't just climb into bed with her at the start, since he usually joined her more nights than not. He said he could better protect her from the floor than tangled up in sheets. He then added she kicked in her sleep.)

Sometimes hours could feel like lifetimes. Had it only been hours before? The busty blonde woman had snuck her way into what she thought was Hansel's bedroom at the Single Shrub Inn. It was the dead of night, the time when only witches and witch hunters were awake. Sinner's Hour, she'd heard it called once, a name that stuck in her mind because she was never awake at that time for a reason one might consider saintly. The woman had been hoping for a tryst. Hansel, she'd found, was already in one.

The blonde screamed bloody murder, and Gretel was grateful it was cold enough she hadn't seen it necessary to remove her nightdress. If the woman's caterwauling sent the entire inn to their door, Gretel wanted to be clothed for it. She smoothed her skirt calmly over her lap while Hansel fumbled for his pants.

"You'll wake the whole town with your shrieking," she said irritably, coldly, more than a little put out. "They'll think we've been hired to hunt a banshee.'

"I fucking hate banshees," Hansel muttered, even more ready with a smart-assed remark then he was with an arrow or bullet. She found it endearing and annoying all at once.

"Unnatural," the woman spat. "Disgusting, godless heathens!"

"Well, that's redundant."

"Whore!" the woman shrieked, which sparked a flame under Gretel, because she barely got paid for her services as it was, least of all her sexual ones.

"Please leave," she said, her tone colder than a frost witch's tits. "You were not invited. You are not wanted. And we are armed."

The blonde glared. "Is that a threat?"

"The dark is very confusing, you know," Gretel said. "It distorts every shadow. It makes you see things."

"I know what I saw," the blonde answered, but she sounded less certain of herself.

"Awful things happen in the dark," Gretel continued, ignoring the woman. "A woman breaks into the room of witch hunters at night, screaming her fool head off... she could be a witch."

"Gretel," said Hansel at her side.

"You know what we do to witches. It's an honest mistake, in the dark."

"An honest mistake..." the woman said, dumbfounded.

"You should go," said Hansel, his tone kinder than Gretel's, but still unyielding. "I'm sure your husband will wonder where you've gotten off to." Gretel then realized she'd seen this woman before, on the arm of one of the stall owners in the marketplace. Her breasts were bigger than most of her husband's scrawny pieces of fruit.

"I..."

"Go," said Gretel.

The woman looked once more between the two of them, the fire in her eyes losing heat as the fear grew. She seemed to accept this, but before she stormed out the door, she tossed one last hiss of "Unnatural!" at them.

Hansel sat on the bed next to Gretel, and she laid her head on his shoulder. Her amorous mood had evaporated, and she was tense both from the encounter and the denial of release. "Do you think we have a problem?"

"I think you need to stop threatening to murder idiot housewives."

"I think you need to stop batting your eyes at idiot housewives," she countered.

"Better I get a reputation for that than for being a sisterfucker. That's kinda bad for business."

"Fuck business," she groused. "I would hunt witches for free."

"Who wouldn't? But free doesn't pay for travel expenses and ammo. I like my toys, Gretel." He threaded his fingers through her hair, a comforting gesture. "So stop threatening to murder the locals, please."

"The adulterer won't talk. I think I scared her."

"You're definitely scary," he said with a smirk. His fingertips skimmed along her scalp. "But we should find the fucking witch so we can get the hell out of here before Melons changes her mind."

"'Melons'? No wonder you have such a way with women."

"I know at least one person who agrees."

She thought she was no longer in the mood, too angry and tense, but the slow circle of Hansel's thumb on the back of her neck was excellent tension relief. Perhaps she could be motivated.

As Hansel snored, hours later, with his arm around Gretel's waist, she stared at the ceiling as the rising sun hit, and waited for the guilt. The woman claimed they were unnatural, but this was a world with witches and all other manners of weirdness, so why was she, Gretel, the unnatural one for being in love? She waited for the guilt to come, but it never did.

**Author's Note:**

>  _you and I, we were meant to be together_  
>  _you and I, we are gonna hang together_  
>  _you and I, we are going down together_  
>  \- "Pills", Les Savy Fav


End file.
